


Dreams are made of these...

by Vesta (Biggelois)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, PWP, Various Kinks, Wincest.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 23:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7594201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biggelois/pseuds/Vesta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes dreams can be so very, very real. Dean had just had the weirdest one...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams are made of these...

**Author's Note:**

> This is me moving my old stuff from LJ. Beware that this is Wincest.  
> Feedback: yes, please if you would be so kind.

Dean looked up from the sink when he heard the car engine rumble outside. Sam was home! He took a quick look around in the kitchen, all tidy. Walking out in the hallway, he checked himself in the mirror and ruffled his hair a little, Sam liked the spiky look. The frilly apron with the large flowers was the one Sam liked the best too; he said it made Dean's eyes sparkle. Dean leaned against the wall, trying to look nonchalant while he waited for Sam to open the door. He didn't want to come off as pushy, just...hot. Just as Sam liked him. 

"Honey, I'm home." 

The deep voice sent a thrill down Dean's spine. No matter how many times he heard it, it still did 'things' to him. Sam stopped just inside the door, closing it behind him carefully. The look he gave Dean sure made up for the all-day wait. 

"Well, baby, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" Sam smiled at him and the briefcase he held landed on the floor with a thump. Before he could answer, Dean was swept up in strong arms, lifted just that little bit off the ground, that exact little bit that made him feel wanted and cherished and desired.

Sam's lips descended on Dean's with a barely held back force behind them, Sam's arms this close to squeezing the breath out of him. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam's neck and hung on for dear life. Damn, that man could kiss.

They stood in the hallway, kissing and breathing each other, making up for the long hours they had been apart. After a while, Sam let go off him, pushed Dean a step away and looked at him again. "You're wearing the shorts," he said. "I thought you didn't like them." 

Dean blushed, what else could he do really. He was, after all, standing there, dressed in an apron and a pair of very tight, very small vinyl shorts. And nothing else. But, it was their anniversary, so he had wanted to do something for Sam. As in putting on the shorts Sam had bought a while ago. Dean had taken one look at them and refused to wear them, they had a zipper in the back for crying out loud. 'Easy access', Sam had leered at him, making Dean's stomach knot with both anticipation and fashion dread.

He had worn some pretty wild outfits for Sam, because he would go a long way to make Sam happy. Dean still couldn't get his head around why Sam wanted him girly and went totally wild on those occasions Dean put on a dress and some lipstick. Those nights always ended up with Dean on his knees, back, belly, whatever, with Sam's dick in his mouth. It was something with lipstick smearing everywhere that seemed to do it. Not that he complained though, Sam always got him off. Would be nice, though, if the event wasn't so messy every time. The messier the better, according to Sam. Dean had to replace the stack of towels they kept by the bed every other day. No towels and Sam would wipe his hands all over the sheets and make an even worse mess. Dean was so happy for his laundry machine; Sam was the most considerate boyfriend in the world, buying him the latest model with turbo spin. Doing laundry had turned into a true joy lately.

"Aren't you pretty? Look at you, all nice and made up for me." Sam's hands were back on Dean again, stroking down his flanks, rubbing over his behind. "You really wanna make daddy happy today, baby." 

Dean nodded, of course he did. He looked up at Sam, trying to look his sexiest. It was their anniversary after all. "Mmmm," he purred. "It's a special day, isn't it?" Dean leaned closer, tilting his head up for another kiss. Sam was just messing with him, not even mentioning their day, and Dean bet there were flowers hidden somewhere. He did not expect Sam to push him away again and look at him like he was insane. "What day?" 

Dean gasped. "Our day. Five years today." 

"Oh." That was all Sam said while he looked away and let go of Dean at the same time.

Dean stared at him, Sam had forgotten in spite of the little hints Dean had left the last days for him to catch on. He could feel tears form behind his eyes, hot burning tears of disappointment and shame. He had put on these stupid shorts for nothing,  
Dean wasn't worth the trouble any more. Dean turned and went for the stairs, he was going to have himself a good cry. Screw dinner, Sam could eat by himself, because freaking Sam had forgotten. 

Before he reached the stairs, Sam caught him by the waist and spun him around. "Only kidding, baby. I'm only messing with you. 'Course I remember what day it is." He leaned down and ghosted his lips over Dean's wet cheek. "Don't cry, sweet thing. Daddy got you a present." 

With a flourish Sam presented a wrapped package and handed it over to Dean. He took it carefully, didn't want to ruin the nice paper and the fancy rosette on it. He opened it slowly, wanted to draw it out and could not breathe when he saw what it was. "You didn't. I can't believe it!" Dean squealed with joy and flung himself at Sam, kissing him where he could reach. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. I can't believe it…" Dean had to stop and catch his breath. This particular brand of motor oil was heinously expensive and even harder to get. And yet Sam had gotten him a bottle for the Impala. That beat all the freaking flowers in the world and would get Sam the blowjob of a lifetime. With lipstick.

"You happy now, baby?" Sam leaned down for another kiss when Dean broke away to breathe. "What's my reward gonna be for remembering?"

Dean grabbed hold of Sam's tie and pulled him into the living room. The couch was closer than the bed, and right then, all Dean needed was Sam's dick in his mouth. Sam seemed to get the hint when Dean yanked at his trousers; he slumped down on the couch and let Dean have his way.

"Come on, baby, 'course I'll let you suck me. I know how much you like to have my dick in your mouth." Sam's voice was all gritty and hot, sending shivers down Dean's spine.He couldn't wait until he had all that hard flesh in his mouth, feeling it slide deep and deeper. And then Sam would turn him over, open the zipper in the back and sink that gorgeous rod into Dean's already slick hole. Sam was holding his cock out, for Dean to lick and suck, so Dean dropped to his knees and opened his mouth.

"That's it, baby, lick it. Look at that lipstick smearing over your slutty lips, god so pretty. Swallow me down, swallow my fat, hard dick, get it wet and I'll fuck your tight little boy-pussy. You're so dirty baby, make you wriggle on my man-meat, gonna fuck your hole, your boy-pussy..." Sam's voice dropped off in a hoarse groan, and Dean could do nothing but open up wide and try not to choke when Sam went to town on him...

Dean sat up in the bed, straight as an arrow. His heart was beating triple time in his chest as he gasped for breath. It took him a moment to get his bearings and realise that he wasn't having Sam's dick jammed halfway down his throat. Dream, it had been a dream, but still he yanked the cover away and felt down over his hips and groin and heaved a sigh of relief. No vinyl, just bare skin. He was pretty certain that there would be no lipstick either, but he rubbed a tentative finger over his lips anyway and sighed again when it came away clean. Hooker-red lipstick, no fucking way.

He looked over at Sam, who was on his belly, sleeping like a baby. Dean frowned because Sam was making some serious happy noises in his sleep. Small grunts and whines, and Dean could see his hips move minutely, pushing down into the mattress.

Dean thought back on the weird dream, Sam being all bossy, Dean in shorts- that made him shudder, he so didn't do shorts- and the freaking lipstick. Not to mention the girly thing. If you asked Dean, he was the least girly person he knew. He was one hundred percent male. Period. No girly teary squeeing thing. With lipstick and a boy-pussy. Dean glared over at Sam again, he had turned on his back and there was a distinct tent around Sam's middle area. 'Boy-pussy' was something Sam would actually say, if he got the chance. Not that Dean would let him. 

'Boy-pussy'. Never in his life. 'Man-meat' though, had a cool ring to it, in spite of the cheesy porniness. Sam was moaning quietly and slurring something that Dean couldn't pick up but Sam's hands under the cover was enough of a hint. Little brother was having a real nice dream. 

Question was if freak boy was dreaming the thing and spreading it on to Dean. That had happened before, Sam projecting so strongly that Dean dreamt it too. Like that time he had made Dean go nuts looking for his lost Mr. Potato Head. It had been gone for years, but Sam had dreamt about them playing with it and Dean had gone bonkers the day after. Dean had wanted his Mr. Potato Head with a vengeance and had thought he was cursed or something until Sam fessed up about the dream. 

The one Sam had had about that librarian had been outright filthy and Dean had been hard and frustrated for hours. He hadn't had any idea that Sam liked to be held down, or get his pretty ass warmed up like that. It had turned out to be perfectly true when Dean had tried the moves on Sam the night after. Dean had felt really pleased with himself after reddening Sam's butt, showed him to have naughty dreams about other guys than Dean, and making him come like a mad thing.

But this, this was way over the top. Boy-pussy, Dean cursed at himself. He was stuck on that word. Perhaps because he was hard and that seemed to send signals to said orifice which was throbbing lightly, either in anticipation or dread. Hard to tell, it was always a lot of work to get Sam's dick up Dean's ass, but it was so worth the trouble even if Dean had to walk carefully and avoid uneven ground for a couple of days after. 

This shit was so weird it wasn't even funny. Freaking shorts. If that was the case, Sam was going to have it shoved down his throat, or getting something shoved anyway. 

But, oh horror, what if Dean had managed to cook it up all by himself. He sat there, with a hand around his hard dick, not thinking about how the hell he could be hard after that fucked up dream, and stared blankly. The image of Sam in a suit showed up as fast as the landlord on a payday. The picture of himself in those shorts, he shuddered again and took a firmer hold of himself- that was so not going to happen. But, again, on the other hand, the way Sam had been in the dream, all bossy and certain, doing all the right things to Dean and talking like that; that was seriously hot. Even the 'boy-pussy' had been kinda hot when he thought about it.

Dean jumped and gave himself a bonus squeeze when Sam groaned aloud beside him. Sam's hand was moving under the cover, he was pushing his hips up and Dean could see the ripped muscles of his belly bunch. Sam was close. Dean was horny. He reached over and pulled Sam's hand away and slapped him on the thigh. "Wake up, freak boy, you're projecting again."

Sam twisted and sat up, Dean quickly ducked to avoid getting hit by the flailing arm trying to swipe his head off. Sam was getting as cranky as Dean when he was brusquely woken up. And being woken up like that, wank-hand yanked away and hit on the leg, there was no telling what Sam could to if he got his paws on the perp. 

"What the hell...?" Sam glared at Dean, frown firmly in place, shaking his head to clear it. "The fuck are you doing? I was having a nice dream there."

Dean sat back against the headboard, "Yeah, I could tell. You're projecting your weird kinky dreams. You need to cool down a little." 

Sam frowned again. " I wasn't...nothing weird. Just you and me, in the shower. That's not weird, we do that all the time." 

It was funny how fast blood could just disappear from various body parts, Dean felt his face go white and his fingers cold. Not his dick though, Dean Junior was still happy. There was something with the lipstick thing that twisted deep inside, making him tingle. He swallowed thickly, "You sure you weren't dreaming? About me in shorts...and lipstick."

Sam just stared at him again. "What? Lipstick? You alright?" 

Dean nodded,and then shook his head. "I dunno. I had the weirdest dream."

Sam snorted. "Can't have been that bad, look at you." He pointedly looked at Dean's hand and what he still was holding. 

There was that, Dean's hard dick. He squeezed it comfortingly again but it didn't help much, just sent a tingle to the down below instead. "It was bad. I was wearing shorts, that you had bought me, and red lipstick." 

"Red lipstick? Nah, I would go for pink." 

Dean jerked his head up at Sam's words. What the hell was that? "Enough already! I know you did this, not me. I don't dream up shit like that. Don't try to blame your weirdness on me, dude."

"I really didn't. But that doesn't matter." Sam's voice had taken that soothing tone and Dean suddenly realised that he was more than screwed. He was going to have to talk about it.  
"But why don't you tell me what it was about." 

Dean sighed. No chance of dodging this. So, once again, take the bull by the horns and spit it out. There was no way he could lie about it either, Sam had some weird radar going, catching Dean's lies on the second word. 

"Well, it was our anniversary, and I was waiting for you to come home..."  
He kept an eye on Sam while he told him about the dream. If the little bitch laughed, he would so get smacked. But, Sam didn't laugh. Instead, he looked intently at Dean, licking his lips and making small affirmative grunts. It wasn't until it was too late and Dean had managed to say 'boy-pussy' out loud without choking, he realised that Sam was getting off on it. The fucker was all flushed and had a hand between his legs. 

"Sam," he began but he didn't get any further, Sam was on him like a starving man on a pizza.

"God that's hot. You in little..." Sam groaned and pushed Dean flat on the mattress. "Little shorts and fucking lipstick. Pink. On your cocksucking pretty lips." 

Sam's hands were everywhere. Stroking, pinching, spreading. "Fuck your pretty little mouth, make it all swollen." Sam kept the stream of words going, licking Dean in the face, licking his mouth, grabbing his cock, stroking just right. But, hell would freeze over before Dean gave it up like that. Any other weird shit, fine, but not like a girl. He grabbed Sam around the waist and flipped them over.

"I'll show you girly," he hissed at Sam. "Gonna fuck that stupid idea out of you. And, it was red." He had expected a fight or a snarky comment but instead he got "Yeah, yeah, come on, fuck me. Show me how you wanna have it." Sam spread his legs and planted his feet firmly on the mattress for leverage. "Come on, come on."

Who was he to say no to that? He hooked Sam's knees over his shoulders and mounted. Sam was still open and slippery from earlier, had tightened up just that little bit that made it all the sweeter to push in. The bed slammed against the wall, and Sam howled. He had a hand on his dick, stripping it hard and fast. He didn't stop talking though, and Dean was too busy pumping into that hot, tight hole to care. Dean got going on a lot of things, but Sam in heat, that blew his head off every time, no matter what.

"Gonna take you like this," Sam wheezed out. "Gonna make you...Suck me first, turn you over on your knees and give it to you. Just like you wanna. Paint your lips..." He reached up and pushed two fingers inside Dean's mouth. "Suck 'em. Like you'd suck me, pink lips. God that's good." He twisted his fingers in Deans mouth, pushing deeper and it was pure reflex that made Dean suck on them and not bite. He rubbed his tongue around them, between them, sucked as hard as he could.

"God! Gonna put you on your knees, make you take it. Fuck you open. Tight little hole. Lips all swollen." Sam panted, hand moving faster. "Fuck, gonna...coming" He twisted his hand around the head, ass clamping down like a vice on Dean, coming in long hard spurts, wetting his chest and belly. 

Dean held on as Sam bucked under him, leaning forward, bending him in half. He got so much deeper like that, Sam still spasming around him, making the sweetest noises. A brief glimpse of himself on his knees, swollen lips around Sam' cock flashed in his head and he exploded. 

Sam's legs hit the mattress with a thump when Dean collapsed and folded down on the broad chest under him. "I think you killed me," he told Sam when he could breathe again. 

Sam grunted. "Not my fault that you have dreams like that. Boy-pussy. The hell, Dean?"

"Shut up."

Dean wasn't that surprised when he two days later found a small cylinder in his jacket. Sam was nothing but inventive and scarily quick at picking up new ideas. He just wished it had been red instead of pink. Glittery pink.


End file.
